General Knowledge
by Oblivious to the Obvious
Summary: If there's one thing you never do, it's disobey the Capitol. If they say jump, you jump. If they say hate this boy, you hate him with all your might. But Cato isn't one to follow the rules. And as of now, neither am I. It's about to get dangerous. Sequel to Common Sense.
1. Moving

**Alright. I finally did it. First chapter done. VICTORY! **

**Eugh, I rewrote this chapter at least ten times, and I'm **_**still **_**not convinced that it's as good as it could be. Either way, I figured I might as well post this and fix the mistakes later.**

**Anyway, so, uh, first chapter. Boom. Here ya go.**

**Disclaimer: I have not, nor will I (most likely) ever own the Hunger Games. BUT technically, since Suzanne Collins killed him off, I should own Cato.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Moving**

_I don't want to move! I don't! I don't_! I desperately want to scream out the words and attack the shabby wall of my house.

_Old house, _I correct myself. Of course, I don't want it to be my '_old' _house. I want it to be my current one. I want to remain living here, just around the corner from my friends, in the far edges of District Three. I don't mind sleeping on the small mat in the corner of our single room so that Grandma can take up the bed. I don't mind using the small the small planks of wood roughly tied together as a table. I don't mind working at the factory and building small, useless appliances for the Capitol every day after school. I don't mind how our money slowly trickles down with each coming day because Grandma's too weak to work. I don't mind how the healer in the corner of town is slowly running out of herbs for medicine for Grandma's aching bones.

There'll be another resolution somewhere out there. One that doesn't involve moving away to the other side of District Three. I'll take _anything _but that.

It's selfish, I know. Desiring my own needs over my Grandma's. Moving to the Victors Villages will be a good thing for her. No more shabby, half rotting walls. No more panic attacks over the occasional rat that runs by. No more smoke drifting from the factories through the open window. No more worrying about the state of the house.

Instead she'll have the house almost equivalent to the luxurious ones from the Capitol. Pretty gardens tended to daily by workers with an eye for detail and beauty, one of the telephones that were once only glimpsed at when made during work, now for our own personal use (not that we'll be able to call many people on it), _almost _fresh, clean air. Far better than what we already have. Far better for her.

I sigh and lift up the small cardboard box I've been given to store my possessions in, not that there are many of them. A few clothes and a small elastic band for a friendship bracelet that Cora, Harley and I each have. We were five at the time, it was the best we could find.

_Harley and Cora. _Yet another brilliant reason for me not to leave. My best friends. The Victors Village is up the opposite end of our District. What we see of each other will be the rare moments that they can get off from work in order to take the two hour long walk to the main town, and when Grandma's well enough for me to leave her and go down on to them on my own.

"Adelina?" Grandma's soft voice calls from outside the house.

I adjust my grip on my box, debating whether or not it'll be worth spilling its contents do I'll have the extra time it takes to repack. "Coming," I call back, deciding against it and bidding the inside of our house a final farewell. _Probably the last time that I'll be seeing it._

There's a small group of people crowded outside our house by a small car that's going to ever-so kindly save us from what would be an extremely long walk to the Victors Village. Looking around, I spy Grandma in the middle of a circle of women, all vying for the space to give her a proper goodbye and thank her for anything and everything nice that she's ever done for them. Cora and Harley's parents are among them, never straying too far from her as they wipe away the occasional tear that threatens to fall.

My own farewell party is not as extravagant. Cora, Harley and her little sister, Jenna, who clings onto her arm as if it's her lifeline. That's all. Of course, the copious amount of tears that run down Cora's face is probably equal to those from Grandma's group, and Harley would probably be the same if she weren't placing all her focus into getting her arm out of her sister's clingy grip.

"We're going to miss you _so _much!" Cora wails, throwing her arms around me. "You promise you'll visit, right? Of course, we'll take every opportunity we can to visit you! But just in case we can't do it all that often, you need to come down too."

I've no doubt that if Harley hadn't finally released herself from her sister and come over to pull my best friend off me, Cora would continue her little rant and squeezing me until she cut of my breathing.

"Okay, Cora, calm down," Harley smiles at our friends antics. "You," she points to her sister, "Go away. I'm not having a group hug." We both give a small laugh at Jenna's sulky expression as she stalks over to her parents before Harley turns to me. "And _you, _stop looking so sad. Look at this place! No offence, Ada, but it's a dump. And you've seen the Victors Village when we go to the reapings. _How big are those houses! _And I bet that inside they're even _better. _You are _so _inviting me over. Look on the bright side, that place is so luxurious people would _kill _to live there..." Harley trails off awkwardly, realising her mistake a second to late. Thing is, people _have _to kill to live there.

"Sorry," she apologises, looking down at the ground, "I didn't think."

"It's alright." I don't make any move to comfort her like I normally would. Maybe my time in the arena has burnt that ability out of me. Now whenever I see someone sad around home, all I'm able to think of is all the worse things that I've seen happen. It sort of cuts off my ability to say anything nice without seeming inconsiderate to their situation. "Anyway, I'll, uh, see you soon," I give a fake grin as I reach out to hug Harley in a desperate attempt to make the situation lees awkward.

"Yeah, you better visit soon," she flashes a shaky smile as her eyes grow shiny with fresh tears.

"Oh stop it," I laugh though I can feel my own voice cracking slightly, "Why are both of my friends such cry babies?"

"Well stop making us sad!" Cora replies, leaping into my open arms with out a second hesitation.

I quickly wipe away the tear that's slipped from the corner of my eye, flashing them both a grin as Grandma, having finally broken free from the crowd of old friends, waves at me to hurry up. "Well, I'll miss you both."

Harley laughs. "I think you'd better hurry. The driver's been here for nearly an hour, I think he's getting really annoyed."

I have to force myself not to reach over and give them both a final goodbye like I so desperately want to, and settle on smiling and hurrying into the car before I run back to them.

"Bye," I wave as the car speeds off the second that Grandma closes her door.

"Try not to be too sad, Adelina," Grandma gives my hand a comforting squeeze, "It's not the last time you'll see them."

_No, I really hope it's not._

* * *

Our house in the Victors Village is the fifth one to be occupied, and quite possibly the nicest house I have seen. Four bedrooms. A large dining room. An extravagant lounge room. A clean and pristine kitchen, stocked with rows upon rows of fresh food. One room is bigger than my entire house.

Barely an hour after we've unpacked our boxes the sound of a doorbell sounds and it takes Grandma and I, so unused to hearing one, a minute to realise that it's from our own house.

"You stay there," I tell Grandma, who's rested on one of the chairs in the lounge room, already trying to stand up, "I'll get it."

"Hello?" I say as I open the door.

"Hello Ada," is the response from a familiar voice. Just the sight of them causes my face to light up in surprise.

"Adelina, who's that?" Grandma calls out from the lounge room, peeking her head out through the doorway to see, her eyes widening when she sees the visitor. "You're Wiress, I assume," Grandma says.

My old mentor smiles. "That's me."

"Please, come in. Adelina's told me so much about you. I can't thankyou enough for what you've done for her," Grandma gushes, rushing in from the hallway to push the door open further. "Would you like anything to eat? Drink? Anything I can do?"

"Oh, no thankyou," Wiress gives her an apologetic smile, "I'm just stopping through. I was wondering if you and Ada would like to come to my house tonight for dinner. There will be a few others there, it'll be a god chance to meet the neighbours."

Grandma gives her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I don't think I'm up to going out tonight. Really I'm just looking forward to a long sleep tonight. But I'm sure Adelina will be more than happy to go. Maybe I'll come along another time?"

"Sounds good," Wiress smiles in response, "My house is right next to yours if you ever need anything."

"We'll be sure to drop in some time," Grandma says before bidding Wiress goodbye and closing the door.

* * *

Grandma's asleep in her room by the time I leave for Wiress house. Her _own _room. We used to share the one, but this house has far more than necessary. It's actually rather annoying.

"Ada," Wiress greets me with a hug the second she opens her door, leading me into the lit house, "Come in." Wiress house is almost identical to mine; the only difference is the decoration, filled with pictures of family and friends. "Everyone's in here," my old mentor says as she leads me into her lounge room where three other people sit seated on the leather couches. I know one of them, but the others are strangers. I scan their faces quickly, desperately trying to remember their names and how they one their games.

There's District Three's first victor, Tanian Helt, who won the Thirty-Second Games by hiding in the trees, only coming down to gather food and collect a small pile of rocks that he later dropped on the head of the girl from District Four to win.

Next to him I spy the cold grey eyes of Lillias Jenner, the victor of the Sixty-Third Games and possibly the only one of us who won using the brute force so often connected to the Career tributes. The year she won was one of the first that I watched. Lillias was in one of the lucky years when the Gamemakers were lenient enough to place a few important and useful clump of wires in the Cornucopia for us tributes who knew how to put them to good use. She had no trouble with using them to strangle the tributes that she caught.

And next to her, Beetee. The only person in the room, aside from Wiress, that I can actually talk to with some ease. Also the only person who hasn't got a permanent death glare etched into their face as they stare at the coffee table in front of them like they're trying to set it in flames with the intensity of their looks.

Wiress clears her throat, gaining the attention of the room. Beetee, suddenly aware of my presence, sends me a warm smile before saying, "Ada, glad you're here. This is Tanian," he points to the sixty something year old man who gives me a nod in response before returning his gaze to the table, "And this is Lillias," the brunette gives me a one over with her gaze, as if she can see through me. Judging by the look on her face, she doesn't like what she sees. "Lillias, Tanian, this is Adelina."

"So this is the fourth tribute," Lillias sneers, her lips twisted into a mocking smile. _Tribute, _I notice her words, _not victor. _It makes sense. Four people won and I got out without killing anyone. Some people find that that means I'm not a _real _victor. I'm fine with that. I just want them to settle their opinions on it so they can move their focus off me.

I don't respond, half because I'm unsure of what I'm supposed to say and half because I'm hoping that she'll drop the subject.

No such luck.

"It's a real pity, you know. I _do _think that you could've won without the entourage; it would've been more entertaining. Of course, I suppose it would've been hard for you to take down that brute from Two. I doubt you could've. I _suppose _that it was the best you could do."

It's going to be a long night.

* * *

**I wrote this all in the time space of two hours. My head hurts.**

**I'll probably update sometime next week. I have heaps of homework that I have to before I can write the next chapter. I've put it off long enough. History, Art, Science, English, French, Japanese, Drama, Music, and Algebra is finally catching up to me... Wish me luck.**


	2. One Month

**Alright, okay, I know, I know. I was supposed to update ages ago. I think it's the longest I've ever gone without updating... not including all my other stories… actually, I don't have anything after that…. But my point is: **_**I'M SORRY! **_**Seriously. I had a another heap of last minute homework to do, not to mention that I rewrote this chapter **_**HEAPS **_**of times before I finally chose what I wanted to put into it. Also the plot of the story has changed at least five times this month. It's not much of an excuse I know, feel free to shout abuse at me later.**

**Anyway, a MASSIVE big thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favourited the story so far. It means alot. ****Also thanks to Teleryn for editing this.**

**Oh, and also, there's BIG FAT IMPORTANT POLL on my profile. See, I've got to different ways for this story to go that I can't decide between, and it's really annoying me, so if you could go ahead and vote after you've finished reading, it'd be greatly appreciated.**

**Anyway, onto the story.**

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**Chapter Two - One Month**

I have one month left. One final month until the Victory Tour; to soak up the normality of District Three; to make the long walk to visit Cora and Harley and act like everything's okay. One final month of avoiding the other Victors like the plague; of only greeting Beetee and Wiress with curt nods and awkward waves, as I'd do with an estranged friend on the street. One final month to act like the Hunger Games never happened; to pretend that it was some other poor girl who'd entered the arena last year and came out with nightmares shadowing her.

And after that I have to face the facts: that girl is me.

If I didn't know that the Tour is compulsory for all Victors, I'd run outside into the cold air with barely more than a singlet on and let the rain catch me out there, in the desperate attempt to get horribly sick, leaving me incapable of leaving my bed. As it is, being sick won't help me, except for giving some of the families in the other districts something to take a bitter pleasure in.

They could probably use that - better than no pleasure at all. Maybe if I were brutally injured during the Tour it might bring a feeling of righteous vengeance to the families of the dead tributes. Jumping out of my bedroom window, so they see me in a cast when I visit, will probably make their day.

But who has time to do that? Not to mention that my Prep Team would only further any injuries I'd have when having to get me ready in the clothes they would have designed around a cast.

The faint sound of knocking on the front door is enough to snap me out of my thoughts and remember that I'm supposed to be avoiding this kind of brooding. I hurry down the stairs before Grandma does.

"I've got it," I announce as I rush past the door to her bedroom where she's already sitting up. "Stay right where you are."

Despite my warning, I can hear Grandma's footsteps echo my own as I run down the hall. I roll my eyes at her stubbornness, but continue on without hesitation to push her back into her room. Still, can't blame her for wanting to follow me - we haven't had many visitors over the past few weeks. Wiress and Beetee often came during the first two weeks, to check up on me, offer to show us both around and invite us over for a meal. After the first week, I had my revelation. I decided that ignoring everything in the Hunger Games was my best option, and so I stopped initiating conversation, practically ordering Grandma to do the same. After several arguments, in which the rudeness of such silent treatment was debated, she finally relented, accepting that it's probably just a necessary stage on my road to recovering from the trauma of the arena.

As always, my Grandma has a knack for knowing what's going through my head.

I can imagine that she's confused as to why I'm so eager to be at the door, after weeks of leaving the room at the slightest shadow from the crack under the door. Maybe she's pleased, happy that I've finally gotten over my phase of relentless denial.

But this time she's mistaken. The visitors at the door are expected, not neighbours who have spontaneously decided to check up on us.

"Oh," my Grandma says in surprise, as she walks down the stairs so she can see the people in the doorway. A smile breaks out no her face.

"Cora, Harley, I wasn't expecting you."

I fling myself into my friends' arms, and it's their turn to be taken by surprise by the force of my grip.

"Well, we were in the neighbourhood and thought we'd drop by." Cora gives Grandma a warm smile as she shrugs me off to greet her.

Grandma doesn't call her out on her lie, knowing full well that's it's nearly impossible for them both to be 'in the neighbourhood' without coming here to see me. She gives my friends warm hugs and potters off to the kitchen, muttering quick apologies about how unprepared she is, not having any food ready.

"Thanks for coming," I say to my friends as soon as Grandma's out of earshot.

"No problemo, we figured you'd be missing us sooner or later," Harley says, throwing an arm around my shoulder, "But onto more serious topics. Why didn't you invite us earlier?" She uses her free arm to gesture obscenely to the inside of the house. "This place is ridiculously big!"

Cora laughs at Harley's reaction, as though she's completely over-reacting about the house and that it's not that big of a deal, though her eyes hold the tiniest glint of envy as they dart about the room, taking in the technology that we only had glimpses of when they were shipped off in boxes to the Capitol.

"So, tell us Ada," Cora puts on the voice of Caesar Flickerman, as we've all done many times in the past. I can tell that she's expecting me to grin like Harley is now at the sound of the idiotic accent. Cora continues before she can see my frown, "What's it like living in the famous Victors' Village?"

Harley laughs on cue and I force out an awkward chuckle for their sake, twisting my lips into an unconvincing smile. "Hilarious Cora," I try to keep my voice light as I say this, working hard to imitate my friend's frivolity.

Apparently my acting skills aren't as good as I thought they were, going by my friends faltering grins. Yet, good as they are, they can tell I'm unwilling to talk about whatever's bothering me. So they change the subject.

"Let's go on a tour of the house, shall we?"

* * *

"Ada, please explain to me why we're here again."

I look at Harley in confusion. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to visit?"

My friend lets out a sigh as she exchanges a glance with Cora. "We did, but why did you invite us?"

The confused look on my face remains, along with my inability to comprehend her words. Cora, however, has an accurate understanding of Harley's thoughts, and moves from her place by the large fireplace in our lounge room, to the sofa with Harley and me. "We mean, you called us up here for a reason didn't you?"

"What? So I can't just talk to my friends now?" I still don't know where they're going with this, but I get the impression I'm not going to like where the conversation is headed.

Cora pulls a face. "It's not that you haven't been talking to us, it's just that you haven't been... talking."

"Sorry?"

She takes a long pause, deliberating over how to phrase her words before saying, "look, we know that everything that happened in the arena was a huge deal –"

I pull away from them both sharply. "That was nothing. I'm fine."

"No, it wasn't nothing," Harley interrupts. "I'm disturbed and I wasn't even in that damned arena, I was only watching."

"Harley –"

"No, Ada, we're not trying to make this a big deal or anything," Cora interrupts. "We just wanted to let you know that when you want to talk about it all, we're here for you."

Judging by the long pause that follows, they're expecting me to gush out all my fears and memories to them. If that's what they want, then they must be sorely disappointed when I stand up and walk to the window. "It's getting late, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Harley says quietly.

"Not that I'm kicking you out or anything, but you'd better be going now unless you want to be walking back in the dark."

I grin in an attempt to lighten the mood, and although the reluctance is clear on my friends' faces, Cora and Harley acquiesce and follow my lead in standing up.

So I take them to the door, bid them goodbye more reservedly than usual. They might think I'm going to invite them around another time, or visit them back home. But I won't do either. I only have one month left to be free of everything, and I intend to forget everything, irrespective of the cost.

Hopefully the next time I can bring myself to talk to them, they'll have guessed that the arena is too sensitive a subject for me.

* * *

I wake up before Grandma has the chance to shake me out of bed. Actually, I'm awake before she even has the chance to open the door. I'm not sure whether I want to be up at all, though.

"Ada?" Grandma calls as she enters the room, "You need to get up now."

It's exactly like when I was seven and feigning sleep in the hope that I could get out of going to school. But Grandma always knows when I'm faking.

"Big day today." She tries to make it sound exciting, though from my behaviour in the past month, she can tell I'm dreading it.

"Please let me sleep," I say, rolling over into my pillow.

Grandma chuckles in response and gives me a playful shake on the shoulder. "Get up."

It's sad - I was hoping for at least another hour to spend with Grandma before our visitors arrive. Unfortunately, I only get the short walk down the stairs before the doorbell rings.

"ADELIE!" the shriek of my hated nickname assaults my ears just before I'm pulled into a bone-crushing hug from the three members of my Prep Team.

"We've missed you so much!"

"You've grown!"

"Did you even brush your hair?"

I roll my eyes at their eccentric entrance, amazed at how their voices can convey even the slightest tinge of sincerity. Then again, it's not as if they're used to greeting anyone quite like this. I don't think any of them were working when Lillias won her games.

"I missed you too," I reply, awkwardly returning the hug while simultaneously trying to shift away from them without their noticing.

"We haven't stopped planning what you're going to wear for the Tour," Alyssa says as she pulls away from me. Or at least, I think it's Alissa. Evidently the Capitol trends can change dramatically in only a few months, causing my ever eager stylist to don an entirely new look: Her lilac skin tint has faded to make way for fiery red, flame-like patterns, which decorate her body, most likely inspired by Katniss' clothing last year. Even the black, spiny swirls that used to cover Harra have taken on a reddish tinge. But neither are as extreme as Jayla, whose entire skin has turned red. Unfortunately, the effect only makes her look as though she's suffering from a painful and extensive sunburn.

Harra nods eagerly. "You're going to look far better than that girl from District Twelve." She spits it out like it leaves a foul taste in her mouth, which I find rather ironic considering they've all based their clothing off her.

"Oh, Harra, Jayla, Alissa, this is my Grandma," I introduce them, relieved that their hawk-like eyes are no longer on me, as they inspect my relative with a scrutinous gaze.

"Ah." Alissa fixes a cheesy grin on her face. "I'm Alissa, but I'm sure Adelie's already told you all about us."

"Well, Ada certainly wasn't exaggerating," Grandma says, a secretive smile on her face as she sends me a wink causing me to clap a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh. I don't think my Prep Team would be too flattered to hear some of the stories I've shared about them.

Luckily, before I can succumb to my laughter, another two shadows loom in the doorway, quickly followed by everyone's favourite form of greeting: shouting out their incorrect version of my name.

"Adelie! It's been too long." Zen greets me like we're old friends. Much like my Prep Team, his style has changed considerably, except that his isn't based on the Girl on Fire. Instead he seems to be going for the polar opposite, dying his hair navy, and colouring his skin a pale blue. A small cough from Harra, wanting a similarly extravagant greeting, sends Zen's head swivelling towards her.

"Hello," he says, wearing a cold expression as he brushes her off and returns his attention to me.

"Oh Zen, stop being so rude," Seraphina scolds as she drops a large bag onto the floor, looking heavily put out by the fact that she's had to carry it. "He's in a bad mood, Adelie."

Seraphina throws her arms around me, leaning into my ear like it's a big secret, though she speaks at her typically loud volume, "You'll have to ignore him. He's just jealous."

At this Zen gives a derisive snort. "Jealous? Of what? They're free to dress however they like." He waves a dismissive hand at my Prep Team.

"If they want to follow the designs of that fool, Cinna, then they're welcome to. Why should I care? It's not as though I have any reason to feel betrayed after I spent years introducing them to the world of fashion and creating plenty of fantastic trends of my own for you to follow, and when I finally create a winning design for a victor, they ignore it!"

The Prep team looks down as though they're deeply ashamed with themselves, with Zen sending them a sour look. Seraphina, however, rolls her eyes as though the lecture doesn't apply to her. She walks over to Grandma.

"I'm Seraphina," she says, a large grin on her face as she waits for recognition to set in. I'm not sure what kind of lavish greeting she's expecting, probably something along the lines of:

'Oh I know you; you're at the reaping every year! Wow, I'm star struck. And Ada got to spend all that time with you? Man, you know what? I think I'm going to start a petition to let older people enter the arena, just so I can spend that extra time with you.'

Well, whatever she wanted, she's deprived of it. Any traces of amusement that my Prep Team gave Grandma leave her face in Seraphina's presence. It's nothing personal, really, but being the woman that draws out the names of kids going to their deaths doesn't make you terribly popular. The smile on Seraphina's face falters ever so slightly as she turns to Zen, a look of confusion on her face at the prospect of not being recognised.

"Okay then," the escort claps her hands together in an attempt to clear the awkward silence. "Shall we get started then?"

I think everyone's relieved for the chance to leave the room.

* * *

After a few hours filled with many yelps of pain, as the knots in my hair are painfully pulled out, and makeup is applied then wiped off, small bickers are made over what I should wear, my input regarded as useless after it became apparent that I can't tell the difference between Glossy Scarlet lip gloss and Slightly-Less Glossy Scarlet at the mere without looking at the covers announcing their names. But despite my ignorance in the art of telling-the-difference-between-practically-identical-colours, they still allow me some freedom to choose my clothes.

And by freedom, I mean they listen to my pleas to not be forced into one of their sparkly outfits they've had prepared. I still have to wear the clothes designed especially for the Tour, but the toned down ones: the ones that aren't designed to leave a trail of fireworks behind me.

"Alright," Alissa says as she pulls away from my face, trying to keep the many makeup appliances in her hand from falling out onto the floor. "All done."

"Seraphina?" Harra calls, bringing my escort into the room, something that has become a routine for the past two hours.

Seraphina inspects me with narrow eyes as she circles like a hawk, a smug smile on her face - her opinions on her favourite topic of fashion are finally being appreciated. Of course, none of the Prep Team would actually be acknowledging her thoughts if it weren't for Zen's earlier temper tantrum. The colour red? Strictly prohibited. No one should ever wear it. Ever. Or at least, those who value their head. Zen looks stressed enough that, if provoked, he might just run to the kitchen looking for any and all things sharp.

"Hmmm," Seraphina muses, clucking her tongue before straightening up and turning to the Prep Team. "I suppose this will do."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as the three women let out a large sigh of relief.

"Thank you Seraphina," Jayla says, clasping the escort's hands in her red ones.

"You're a lifesaver," Alissa adds.

"I don't know what we'd do without you," Harra gushes.

"Oh, well…" Seraphina waves a hand and blushes as she tries to sound humble. "I just do what I can."

"I will have to change my look though, won't I?" Jayla says sourly, pouting as she rubs her scarlet arms.

"And to think I only got this done yesterday." Alissa saddens considerably at the thought. "But, if it's upsetting Zen..."

Jayla gives her an understanding look. "Do you think they'll have a good salon in District Eleven?"

Zen is again uncharacteristically quiet when he comes to collect me. When Alissa nervously asks if I look alright, he manages the snooty Capitol look perfectly and gives an indifferent shrug. "She'll do," he says. "I might have to make some changes though."

"Oh, yes, of course, that's completely understandable," Harra gushes out, not pausing for breath once, "Make whatever changes necessary."

Zen ignores her and pulls me out of the room after him, Seraphina tottering behind, sending sympathetic looks to the three women left behind.

Once the door is closed, Zen lets out a large sigh and gives me a look as if to say, 'can you believe the nerve of them?'

I give him a nervous smile, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Seraphina makes perfect use of her knack for talking as soon as someone else opens their mouth.

"Just ignore them," she says, rushing over to her large suitcase to pull out a wide arrange of over-the-top clothes. "They'll get over it soon enough, it's just a phase."

Zen snorts. "Just a phase indeed. Cinna. It's always Cinna. Cinna this, Cinna that. Well, I'll show him!"

Somewhere in between Zen's vows to out-design Cinna, and Seraphina's long ramble discussing everything she doesn't like about Katniss and Peeta's clothes, the two of them forget about me.

I take this opportunity to pick the clothes I want to wear, for a change. When Zen and Seraphina finally take a break from their complaints to look up and see that I've chosen to ignore all of their ready designs and sport some of my own clothes that came packaged with the house, they look so shocked that you'd think it was the first time I'd ever dressed myself.

"What are you wearing?" The look on Zen's face can only be described as horrified.

"Clothes," I shrug.

"Change. Now."

"No!" Surprisingly it's Seraphina who protests. "No! We don't have time! We'll be late! No, don't argue with me Zen, we need to leave now. Oh God, I'll be the laughing stock if we're late! Venus will never let me live it down! I'll be demoted! I'll be stuck with one of the brats from Ten every year! And I've heard it's horrible down there! They say that the ground is covered with piles of dung! And Flora always comes back from their smelling like manure!" When Zen opens his mouth once more, Seraphina's voice is so loud that I'm surprised my eardrums haven't burst. "NO, ZEN! I WILL NOT BE THE ESCORT FOR DISTRICT TEN!"

The next few minutes pass in a blur as I'm pulled down the stairs, barely managing to give a hug to Grandma as a goodbye, before being dragged out of the door by a panicked Seraphina. The ride to the train station is only five minutes, yet Seraphina carries on as though it takes an hour.

"Wait Seraphina, we need to stop! Ada can't go out in public looking like that!"

"Shut up Zen! I refuse to go to District Ten!"

"But –"

"If you wanted time to change her, then you should've had her ready sooner!"

"It's not my fault! I'm not the one who spent three hours working on her make up!"

"We didn't mean to take that long!" The nagging voices of the Prep Team join in on the discussion.

"Yeah, we were just trying to maker her look nice."

"Well she'll look horrible now, thanks to you."

"Hey, aren't we supposed to pick up Beetee and Wiress?"

"No time, they'll find another way to get there. We are not turning back now."

The oddest thing is, even as I'm pushed out of the car, made to board the train, and project a falsely cheerful persona as I'm introduced to Venus, the escort for District Two, while waiting for my old mentors to realise that they're not being picked up, I can still grasp that slight feeling of normality. I can ignore the memories of being in the arena and write them off as part of a reality that is not my own. I can act like this is all just a dream where I've been lucky enough to be granted a day of luxury from the Capitol.

But then Venus turns around and commands her former tribute to 'stop being to anti-social and talk to people!' and I meet the familiar, piercing blue eyes of Cato Emery.

I'm forced to admit that my month is up.

**There you go. Again, sorry for the late update. And I' promise I'll add a new chapter soon (And I actually mean it this time!)**


	3. Complete and Utter Boredom

**New chapter! Yay! Who would've guessed that I'd actually update? Amazing isn't it, how despite whenever I say that I'll update soon, the next chapter always comes a few weeks later. WELL NO MORE! I SHALL STAND UP TO THE EVIL POWERS OF WRITERS BLOCK AND I WILL DEFEAT THEM IN THEIR QUEST TO NEVER LET ME UPDATE ON TIME! Plus it's holidays, so other than staring blankly at the Tv, I have nothing else to do.**

**Anyway, as always, I don't own the Hunger Games. No, before you ask, I haven't experienced one of those Freaky Friday things where I just woke up one morning in Suzanne Collins' body so I could own say for once that I **_**really **_**own the Hunger Games. But the likelihood of that happening is pretty small.**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Complete and Utter Boredom.**

Only an hour into the ride to District Twelve, I am ready to jump off the train. I'm overreacting, but the idea is far more appealing than having to deal with all the other people in the train as company (for the overnight trip to pick up the final two victors).

"Oh, Adelie," calls a voice from the other side of the compartment. "Can you come over here, doll? I want to do your hair." The woman calling me isn't a member from my Prep Team, though she likes to treat me as though she is. Trying to resist the urge to run out of the room, I stand from my seat and walk over to the woman with lime green hair, as she calls my Prep Team.

"I wanted to show you that hairstyle I was telling you about earlier," she says to them as they begin to crowd around her.

Again, the temptation to flee is overwhelming, but remembering that it's either this or supreme boredom helps me maintain my stoicism next to the woman with green hair.

"Oh, you don't mind, do you Adelie?" asks the woman. "It'll only take a second."

"No…"I force a smile onto my face and shake my head. "Go ahead..." I search for a name to put to the woman's face that isn't 'The Green One' or 'The Ogre'.

"Oh, my name's Claudia." She does a small shuffle in her seat and flashes me a dazzling smile (Literally, her teeth have been replaced with bright diamonds), as though striking a pose for an invisible camera. Her smile falters at my lack of response, but she keeps her upbeat expression. "Did you know that my cousin is Claudius –"

"Templesmith? Yes, I do believe you've mentioned it." The new voice comes from another member of Cato's Prep Team.

Claudia's head swerves around immediately, her face changing from bright and bubbly to cold and sulky. "Olivine," she sniffs distastefully."What do you want?"

"Nothing, Claudia, just trying to save the poor girl from boredom," Olivine says in her high pitched, squeaky voice.

Claudia gives a huge gasp. "It is not boring! I'll have you know that Claudius is ranked number fifteen in _Capitol Celebrities' Top 100 Famous Faces_! "

Not be outdone, Olivine replies with her own claim to fame: "Oh that's nothing! My uncle's neighbour's son was ranked _number six _two years ago!"

"So? At least Claudius is _still_on the list. He's not going to be forgotten easily!"

My Prep Team waste no time in getting involved in the banter, immediately picking sides and muttering soothing words to their patron in an attempt to boost their ego even further. However the argument soon escalates so that no one in the room (save for me) is left out the fight.

"Oh please, Harra, I think we both know that _I _was the one who started wearing the headbands first," Alissa says as she and Jayla move to flank Claudia while Harra and the final member of Cato's Prep Team, a man named Hermis, join forces with Olivine.

On the bright side to all the commotion that's going on, escaping from the room without catching the Prep Team's attention is as easy as walking out the door.

The downside is that, despite how annoying the disputes are, they still count as entertainment, something I could use to fill up my ample free time.

_Back to square one, I guess._

* * *

The train manages to pull into the station at District Twelve without any major catastrophes, save for the slight meltdown Seraphina had this morning when she realised that she'd forgotten her favourite pair of heels. But the avoxes available managed to clean her room after a few hours, and once the window's replaced the room's probably going to be as good as new.

Almost as soon as the train stops, the doors open to make way for District Twelve's escort, and the Prep Teams and stylists for Katniss and Peeta, to hurry through and take their car to the Victors' Village. Unfortunately for me, the way that only one train has been organised for the group of us means that we have to stay here for the few hours the Prep Teams have been given to prepare their victors. Even worse, we're confined to the train and pulled away roughly from the windows each time I try to peer out at the unfamiliar sights of District Twelve.

Obviously this puts a strict limitation on what I can do to ease my mind-numbing boredom, and the company on the train is nowhere near up to the job of good entertainment. There are the Peacekeepers, who are too busy looking intimidating and serious. There are also the Prep Team and stylists, who have a hard time continuing their mindless chatter and feeble arguments with each other. Of course there are the previous victors who I could talk to, but I can't bring myself to face Beetee and Wiress, and to be honest, Brutus and Enobaria, Cato's previous mentors, scare me.

And then there's the one who's confined himself to his compartment with demands that he leave the room for nothing and for food to be brought to him, lest he starve to death. Still, he's been surprisingly silent in comparison to the gloating and egotistical version of him that I'd been expecting when I first stepped onto the train.

_So which do I pick?_

_Bleeding ears?_

_Awkward silences?_

_Or pay the antisocial and completely unpredictable former tribute a visit?_

It doesn't take long to decide.

* * *

Cato's compartment is at the very end of the train, far away from where most of the commotion has been unfolding throughout the trip. To be fair, it's possible that he did choose it for the view, rather than a desire to be as distant from everyone as possible.

Considering the door to his compartment is fully open and lacking any kind of sign saying '_GO AWAY!' _written in big, intimidating letters, I presume that the rooms location in the cabin has been enough to rid him of any unwanted visitors without any additional effort from him.

_Good thing that I'm an expert at ignoring the blatantly obvious._

Though I'm certain that he could hear me coming down the hall, when I pause at the doorway he doesn't even bother to look at me. Instead he decides that moving his neck a few centimetres would be too laborious, possibly damaging his incredible aim regarding the rubber ball that he's so expertly throwing against the wall, emitting an annoying sound as it slaps against the blank wall.

"Hi," I say, giving a small, awkward wave.

No reply. Not so much a glance in my direction. Nothing. It's as though I _did _jump off the train before we reached District Twelve and I'm just a ghost who refuses to acknowledge their death.

"Hello," I repeat, standing my ground at the door, hand glued to the frame, as though trying to steady myself. Once again I'm met with silence. A spark of irritation ignites, and I force myself to smother it and continue in a calm tone. "You know –"

"Go away, Ada." His tone isn't harsh, just... bored.

Shock doesn't even have time to register before I'm moving forward, anger driving my movements. _How dare he? What's he got against me? If I recall correctly, I'm the one who's supposed to be furious with him!_

I take a step towards him, something that not even a year ago I never would've done voluntarily.

_Huh, maybe that's why I'm doing it. I must've finally lost the plot._

It's only when I'm face to face with him that I realise I have absolutely nothing to say.

_Come one, Ada, think. There must be something to yell at him for..._

_Oh yeah, what the hell is your problem?_

_What's with the attitude?_

_Possibly mention that he wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for me?_

_... Yeah, that's a good one. And it's not like he's done anything for me!_

That said, my memory immediately protests against it.

Okay... So he helped me once in training..._He was doing that to rub it in that he had a better chance of winning, so it doesn't count. _The little voice of common sense that hasn't spoken up since the Hunger Games finally makes itself known again, trying to extinguish any feelings of gratitude or debt owed to Cato before they can influence what will be an amazing argument…once I think of what to say.

Another voice quickly joins the debate, arguing against the ridiculous argument that I should give Cato a break.

_He didn't exactly reveal your hiding place to the Careers when they killed Kella_, Nice Voice protests.

_But they did kill Kella, and he probably didn't kill you then because he didn't notice you! _Nagging Voice replies.

So, yeah, not counting that.

_But he had the chance to kill you after Clove died._

_And he didn't because he thought you knew where Katniss and Peeta were!_

_Bullshit he did. And what about when Thresh was there and he saved you? Huh? Can't think of a good reason for why he did that, can you!_

I break myself out of my trance and realise that I'm staring blankly at the wall. "Um..." _Smooth, Ada, I'm sure he's terrified of you now. _"No."

_Smack. Smack. _The rubber ball's rhythm doesn't falter for a second, nor does Cato's bored stare at the wall. "No? So you're just going to stay here all day?"

"Well... No."

"So you're leaving?" The bored expression is still there, but for a split second I think I see the corner of his mouth twitching into a tiny smile before settling back into a hard line.

_Sneaky bastard._

Continuing with my amazing ability to generate brilliant and mind-blowing comebacks, I reply with, "no, I'm not going to do that either."

This time he actually does smile. "Are you staying or are you leaving? Make up your mind, Ada."

For once I make a last minute decision and manage to speak with perfect confidence, which is lucky, because otherwise he'd most likely laugh at me. "I'm leaving," I say, "And you're coming with me."

* * *

**So there ya go. Why do I always say that at the end of chapters? One of life's many questions that probably have an answer that I'm just too lazy to look for... Kinda like my maths homework.**

**Anyway, thanks to:**

**geranium08**– Don't worry, I'm working on an actual conversation (Wow! Shocker!)

**readitandmeep** - Haha, I showed your review to my friends and they all laughed when you said I was awesome. Like, seriously? It's not _that _unbelievable!

**kiralol101**Teehee, thanks for the review, it made me smile.

**PeppermintAmortentia**- I think we had a conversation about this . Still, your reviews always manage to make me grin like an idiot.

**julieAKAweirdo **- Don't worry, definitely more next chapter.

**HermioneandMarcus**– Thanks, well here's the next chapter ... obviously...

**BlackCat718**- Why thankyou.

**Justapersonwithapony **- Thanks

**bbymojo**- I know, it took a while.

**hungerthegames**- Thanks, and sorry for my inability to update fast.

**owlsrawsome**- Thankyou, I enjoy writing about them more than most other people in the story.

**aewprincess**Teehee, thanks.

**Nirvana14**- (Twenty-two days later) Gosh, I do need to fix this 'not updating' thing, don't I?

**austen2gaskell**- If you can do that, teach me.

**Priscilla X. Silver **- Naw, thanks.

**Ashley Dawn **- You make a valid point, my friend. No, really, excellent point – and you just gave me an idea for what could happen if she doesn't go into the arena.

**Lily Mapleberry**- I know, but I'm working on it. In the mean while, I'll change what I say at the end of the chapter

**zozo0817**- Well hopefully this has arrived before you get shipped off to an asylum ;)

**anon **- Oh My Gosh... I just... laughed.

**... For reviewing.**

**Anyway, to stop with the constant promises of quick updates, I'm going to correct it. I **_**might **_**update soon.**


	4. Important

**Hi everyone!**

**No, this isn't an update (X'() and yes, I am doing that really annoying thing where I make an entire chapter an authors note, but this one's really important!**

**So, this shouldn't really come as a big surprise (what with the uber late updates and all), but I'm sort of putting this story on hold because I:**

** a) Have no idea where I'm going with it**

** b) Am kind of starting to hate it**

**And**

** c) I have no idea where I'm going with it (yes, I am aware I wrote that twice)**

**So basically, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, alerted, and read Comon Sense and General Knowledge. Seriously, it means a lot to me.**

**So, uh, bye?**


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